The Lord of the Rings: The Silver Amulet
by Bridsta05
Summary: Aragorn and the Fellowship are setting out for another adventure, when The King of Gondor is summoned to a private quest which he must complete alone. First LOTR fic, please R&R!


**Title: The Lord of the Rings: The Silver Amulet**

**Summary: Aragorn and the Fellowship are setting out for another adventure, when The King of Gondor is summoned to a private quest which he must complete alone. Darkness is rising again as the rightful heir to the throne disappears into unknown lands to fulfil his newly placed destiny.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with LOTR's. (Wish I owned Aragorn though) **

**(A/N) This is my first LOTR fiction so please R&R. Many thanks, Bridie. **

**This is set after the original LOTR's books. Even though this wouldn't happen, Frodo and Gandalf have come back from the Grey Havens and Legolas dwells in Mirkwood.

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Chapter 1: Leaving**

Aragorn, son of Arathorn stepped into one of the vast fields that were situated in The Shire, the wind ruffling his messy black hair. The sun was slowly rising to the East, spreading a thin glow of light which bounced across the fluffy clouds. He had arrived in The Shire no more than three days ago, requesting to see Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee.

"Is everything alright Strider?" Sam had asked nervously.

Aragorn smiled and ran a hand through his hair.

"_Dear old Sam," _he thought to himself.

The breeze was cool and light, playing on his face, mingled with the rays of sunlight. The air smelled sweet and crisp, dew hung from the early morning grass which was springy under his feet.

Aragorn had decided to gather a group of sturdy, reliable companions and head out into Middle Earth seeking adventure again. It would be like the old Fellowship, only smaller in numbers. Evil no longer threatened the land and his city, Gondor, was running peacefully and smoothly.

A door clicked shut behind him and Aragorn turned to see Frodo, who was once the Ring bearer of the most powerful ring on the earth, coming towards him. Frodo puffed on his pipe and stood next to Aragorn, only coming up to his chest in height. Hobbits were renowned for their short structure and hairy feet.

"It's a nice morning," Frodo commented, blowing a small ring of smoke from his mouth.

"An excellent one," Aragorn agreed. He playfully messed Frodo's hair. Frodo smiled in return. After a few more minutes of standing and watching the sun rise over the ripe, flourishing crops Aragorn though it would be best if they started off.

"Yes, of course. We're just packing," Frodo told him, leading him back into Bag End. Aragorn had to stoop as he entered, narrowly avoiding hitting his head as he did so.

"I'm all ready Strider," Sam said proudly, hitching his pack higher onto his shoulders. As he did so a great clattering could be heard, he had many pots and pans hanging from his swag, "You can never be short of food," he mumbled, heading out the door whilst Aragorn chuckled softly.

When they were ready Aragorn took them out the front and helped them onto two different horses. These were beautiful stallions, bred and raised in the Rohan, land of the Horse Lords. Aragorn then mounted his own horse, a sleek dark brown colour. He adjusted his sword Andúril, Flame of the West, which had been forged from the shards of Narsil. This blade had aided Isildur in the diminishing of Sauron in the battle of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men.

Looking back to see if the hobbits were alright, Aragorn then nodded and pressed his horse on, riding up the smooth path at a trot, the two Hobbits following close behind.

"Strider, where are we headed?" Sam called out, as they crossed a small bridge leading out of The Shire.

"Mirkwood, to see Prince Legolas and to ask if he wishes to join us," Aragorn replied, steering his mount to the left, Eastward travelling down a dusty path.

They rode on for the whole day without rest. The hobbits could tolerate this quite well as they had been on a journey to Mordor and back in harsher more unbearable conditions so this was essentially easy.

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Frost exited Aragorn's mouth as he continued along the now hardened ground; the chilly wind whipped his face. It was freezing cold and the hobbits had to wrap their cloaks tightly around themselves to keep their bodies warm.

The wooden gates of Bree stood tall above the three freezing travellers. Aragorn knocked sharply on the door, wanting to acquire a room at The Inn of The Prancing Pony as soon as possible.

"What business…" began the doorman, opening the door to peer out at the three newcomers, "My Lord Aragorn! Come in my liege, of course you are welcome. And any of your companions of course my Lord,"

The old man bowed respectfully and let the three pass by, Aragorn nodding his head in thanks. The hobbits both muttered a "thankyou" and followed Strider to the door of the Inn.

"Looks familiar," smiled Frodo, dismounted his horse and tying it to a post outside, "Good lass, you've had a long ride,"

"They've got good ales in here," Sam commented, "And a fair quality of cheese too,"

Aragorn smiled widely and patted Sam on the head.

"Do you ever think about anything other than food?" Frodo laughed, entering the Inn behind Aragorn. Sam blushed slightly.

After they had all been fed and filled with ale, Aragorn bundled them into a cosy, well-furnished room. A roaring fire was in the dusty grate, the beds were made of brass. They were all too tired from the long day of travelling to do little else than lay down their packs, slip into bed and fall into a deep slumber…the wind whistling against the foggy windows…


End file.
